Anathema
by Yih
Summary: AU fantasy. His parents were killed because of him. Harry has lived with this guilt under his dreadful Master, the Lord of Darkness... Voldemort. Whether he is good or bad, or anything between... he is known as Death's Servant.
1. Prologue: A Waking Death

**ANATHEMA  
**by Yih

Note: Unbeta'd.

Prologue  
_A Waking Death_

I remember… _running, leaving, journeying_ from our home to another.

Father said it was necessary. We had to get away from something, someone who was chasing us. Mom told me not to worry, that everything would be all right in the end. But she was wrong. And Father didn't run far enough.

He came like a terrible storm, surrounding us and demanding his price. "I would have the child," he said. His red eyes swirled with a horrible possession of darkness. "Give him to me."

My father's sword was out, a strong blade laced with the etchings of magical runes. I saw him push his magic into his sword, saw the markings pulse with life and gleam with power. But the _other_ did not move, did not pull the sword sheathed behind his back free. He laughed instead.

The sound of it pierced my ears and if it were anything solid, it would have sliced my hearing into nothing. I wished then to have never heard that sound, but the One has a fractured sense of deliverance. Rarely what is wanted is given.

"_Give him to me," _the daemon, for that must he what he was, hissed. There were powers in those words. They pulled me to him. My mom held on tight, her nails digging into my flesh to keep me near her. She would not relent, would not give in. It did not matter. When Evil said, "If you will not give him, I shall take him," I was yanked from her arms.

I flew to him with a supernatural speed. I recognize the power, for I have felt the same in my father and mother. Looking back, I saw my mother had pulled her double knives from their belt holders. She twirled them in an intricate dance until the sharp edges seem to blur and bend. I had never seen my mother so fierce, so determined before as she leapt toward our enemy.

Father was right behind and I knew how they fought. I had watched them many times. I twisted away at the last minute and managed to jerk free from the daemon's hold. But I was too stunned by the site of my father losing an arm to move. So quick, so unbelievable—but it happened.

The daemon withdrew his sword and Father's arm was gone. My mom screamed once before her throat was cut and her blood spilled over her chest and her twin knives fell to the ground. I crawled to her, my arms cradling her dying, convulsing body. Tears spilled down my face until I could see nothing. But I heard the slicing of flesh against steel, heard how my father died.

I remember… _crying and crying _when the daemon picked me up and took me away.

"You are now mine," he declared, his clean hands touching the blood he had spilled with his sword. How his hands were clean when mine were crusted a deep crimson was strange. "I have looked for you a long, long time."

His touch was neither gentle nor cruel, but it was hard and his skin burned against mine. "Do you know who I am, child?"

I could not shake my head, his grip one my face was absolute. My voice was lost in darkness, words trapped in my throat. I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I would start screaming. Instead I blinked and I could see the understanding, the knowledge in his eyes.

"I am your master," he declared, "and do you know who you are?"

Somehow I managed to rasp, "_No."_

He made a please noise in his throat and it frightened me. But his words were even more terrifying. "You are my apprentice," he said as if he were giving me a great gift. "You are _mine_."

I remember… _trying, praying, and wanting more than anything_ to kill myself.

But he would not let me. He knew I would try. I was only a child, but I knew many ways to try. His sword would be too difficult to get and too hard to wield. But if I fell off a horse, maybe I would be trampled. Or I could try to drown myself in a river. I even considered ripping my own throat out. None of these attempts worked.

He knew what I was after and he stopped each time. I did not know how he knew until we reached the borders of his land and I heard what they called him. He was the Great Lord of Darkness, _the _Living Dead, and as such he could feel death near.

His name was never said, not outside of his Dominion and especially not within it. They say his name has power, great power to destroy and to desecrate. They do not dare utter it, their homeland already known as the Northern Wastelands. But I read it somewhere. It did not seem like a name of power, but it did have a sinister sound to it… _Voldemort_.

Once he asked me: "Do you know why I took you?" His eyes, dark and red and fierce, seared mine. "Of all the little boys in the South, even in my Northern lands, do you know why I chose you, child?"

"To be your apprentice?"

He had a smile on his lipless face. He was a terrible site to behold, only his eyes appearing human. The rest of him was warped, like a diseased and wasted body, as such he should be—defying Death as he had.

"Only an illusion," he whispered, his hands, cold hands touching my cheeks. "You have such life in you, life that I need near me to remind of what I am missing—of what I need to _have_ again."

I shuddered and his petrifying smile only widened. "_Yesss_," he hissed, his tongue flicking out like a snake, "I can sense your fear. I can smell it. It's a fear of death itself, and yet you don't want to live. How strange, how strange you are."

Who would want to live to be Death's Servant?

"But this fear is good," he said, whispered into my ear as he licked it. "You should fear me, child. I am not someone to cross nor am I someone to disobey. You saw what happened to your parents." His hand went around my neck. "You wouldn't want your pretty neck to be… slit like your mother's would you? Or," he said, his other hand gripping my arm, "any of your limbs detached would you?"

I shook my head, trying to gasp for air. It was getting hard, he was squeezing so tightly. I didn't know why I was trying to live, when only a few weeks ago I had tried to die, but I didn't want to die now. Not when I knew he was Death Alive and I feared that if I went into Hell—for where else could I go?—I would see him as more than a ghastly being.

"Then listen well, child, and learn too that I accept no weakness in my followers, and you are in their eyes… my apprentice. If you falter, you will be punished far worse than you can even begin to imagine," he warned me, a glittering, demonic promise in his eyes. "But you won't, will you?"

I lowered my eyes with acquiescence.

"Such obedience," he murmured, his fingers moving through my hair and down my spiny back, "in one so young. But then you have the will beaten and starved out of you, haven't you?" One finger touched a scar, one of the few on my back that had not healed. "Alas, you who wanted death, you got life and pain instead. And I who yearn for life can only stay in life by death.

"The injustice of this world," he remarked, his nails scraping against my scars, "is such a tragic thing to realize at tender age you are. But what an age to learn it! Then you will be prepared for the cruelties, the agonies, and the miseries. Ah yes, you my dear apprentice, will know such cruelty, agony, and misery. But even will you learn to give others a taste of what you have experience. Thus is world, the passage of horror.

"One day," he mused, "you will kill someone for me and you will revel in it. Perhaps I will have you drink their blood like a wild animal. A beast, my beast. Hard to imagine in you now, young and innocent as you are, but give me years and I will turn you into something grown men will piss in fear of."

His knuckles reached up and brushed against my cheek. "Ah yes, you will be a terror, my terror."

I wanted to weep, to wretch at the thought, but I did nothing.

**TBC**

A/N: The 'antithesis' of Chimera. Loosely influenced by other fantasy stories out there in the HP fandom, but pretty much my interpretation of what I'd like to see. These chapters should be longer and less frequent than my other fic. Of course, if you want faster and shorter updates, let me know. Other than that... what do you? And what do you want to happen after this setup?


	2. CH 1: An Errand of Deathly Consequence

**ANATHEMA  
**By Yih

Note: Many have asked if this will be LV/HP, perhaps, I don't know at this time.

Chapter One  
_An Errand of Deathly Consequence_

_10 years later…_

I tremble before my Master. I can see the outline of his ribcage and his shoulder blades as his manservant, Pettigrew, puts his black robes onto him. Master has thrown thinner than when I first knew him. The body he is currently occupying is dying. He needs another one to suck into a husk. This one won't last much longer.

"_Harry…" _he hisses. "_Come closer." _

I cross the room and kneel down next to his boots, lowering myself until my forehead touched the ground before raising my head. "_Master." _

His fingers dig into my scalp, parting my hair and I force myself not to react. "_You know what I want." _

I nod.

He traces his fingers down my cheek and to my throat where he tilts my chin up until I must look at him. The features on this face are more haggard than a few days ago. Truly, this body isn't lasting long. Shorter than I thought.

"_You chose poorly," _he says, his tongue flicking out and licking me from my nose to my forehead. _"Very poorly_."

I swallowed hard and lowered my eyes.

"_My terror,_" he murmurs, "_must wreak more havoc." _He sounds happy and I almost shiver. "_Won't you?" _

"_Yesss…" _

"_Such a good boy," _he says, _"such a good boy." _

His hand wraps around my throat and holds it in a tight grip. I can breathe but only barely. My eyes open and I see his. It doesn't matter the body; it doesn't matter the eye color, toward the end—they always revert to the serpent-like form and the blood red eyes.

"_Do you still want to die?"_

I shake my head.

"_Of course not," _he whispers and releases me. He bends his head and presses his thin, dried lips against my forehead. "_I wouldn't be there." _

I say nothing and it's good enough for him.

* * *

My manservant is waiting for me when I return. His face is blank, but his shoulders are rigid and there is a certain disdain in his eyes. He hates what I am, though I am unsure as to why. After all, from what I knew about Severus Snape—he'd been in the service of the Great Lord far longer than I have been. 

"My lord," he says in a cold voice, "the Great Lord has requested that your horse be saddled and a bag packed."

I incline my head and stand in front of the mirror, dropping my robes off and looking at my scrawny body. I am still shorter than the average boy. I wonder if it's because Master leeches my life force from me when his bodies begin to fail, or if I am simply destined to be short. But my ribs, I know, are because of him. It's ugly. I'm ugly.

Not that Snape is any prettier. I look at him, at his equally skeletal form. Like me, he too gets drained when Master gets weak. But Master prefers mine for whatever perverse reason. I turn away from the mirror and snap, "My black robes."

"Yes, my lord."

Such impoliteness in his tone, if Master heard, Snape would be punished. I know it wouldn't be for my sake. It's the principle of the matter. I know how he thinks, I know what he wants, and one day I will give it to him. I shudder to think of what will happen when I do—but who am I to stop him?

I am but his most trusted servant.

"What shall I pack?" Snape inquires.

I turned and narrowed my eyes at him. He stood there waiting for the command like a good servant, but his eyes were fierce and venomous. Not for the first time, did I wonder why Master had gifted me with such a recalcitrant manservant. There were others he could have chosen, but no—he had to choose one who hated me.

"The usual."

Snape nods and turns to the closet, opening it up loudly enough to disturb me. I press my lips together and ignore him. If he thinks he can snap my control, he has another thing coming. If Master couldn't, what makes him think he can? And why would he even want to? Doesn't he know what I can _do_ to him?

"Everything will be ready in a half hour, my lord."

"Good," I answer. "Now leave me."

"As you wish." From his tone, it could have well been 'as you die.'

Whatever, who cares? If he likes me, if he hates me, it doesn't matter. I am what I am and no more.

* * *

"_Master,"_ I say and kneel, bending my head down. _"Everything is ready."_

"_If everything is ready, why are you here?" _

I look up. _"To inform you of my departure time." _

His eyes are too bright, too intense. I want to look away, but he'll take that for weakness. He already thinks I'm feeble. I lower my eyes. It doesn't hurt to let him continue to think that. Does it?

"_You know,_" he says, lifting my chin up, _"I know you better than you know yourself. I know the darkness in you that you wish to deny. You can't, my terror, you can't. You yearn for destruction, for death. That's why you're at my side. If you really wished to leave, you would have already done so." _

How can I when Master kept me chained when I was a child until I was broken? How was I to escape? And when he finally freed me… I was too weak to resist him and what he offered. But I _am not_ wholly his… not his terror.

"_Oh Harry," _he hisses and licks my lips, _"you are such a stubborn boy."_

I swallow and say nothing.

"_Go,_" he commands.

I rise to my feet and head toward the door.

"_One day,_" I hear him say, _"you will realize that this is the life you're meant to have."_

* * *

"Your mount, my lord." Snape hands me the reins to my small gelding, Lonan. 

I narrow my eyes. "Where is Hedwig?"

My snowy owl is usually perched at the back of my saddle, making a vivid contrast against Lonan's sleek black coat. The two of them are all I need on the road. Hedwig would scout ahead and Lonan would carry me. What else do I need but them? My only friends.

"Lady Black is bringing her."

My back tenses. I hate the Bitch, and I am certain the animosity is returned double-fold. Of course, she's too much of a Slytherin to show it. She's a cunning one and a jealous one. I heard she was Master's favorite before he turned his eyes to me. I would gladly give it back to her, but the fixated gaze could not be turned.

"Harry," Bellatrix says, having the honor as Master's other apprentice to address me by name, "your bird."

Hedwig's dark eyes are whirling, as upset as I am to hear Bellatrix misidentifying her. I smile a little and her deep red lips twist into one of her own. I daresay hers is less sincere. I offer my arm and Hedwig flies onto it, her claws gripping my bare arm tightly. It's only just light enough to avoid drawing blood.

"May you travel swift to do our Master's bidding."

No words of safety from her; no, she'd prefer to see me dead. I incline my head, only a little. I am superior to her, and she knows it. She bows her head lower than I do and steps back.

"I will see you soon."

Oh how she wishes she wouldn't. Too bad I couldn't oblige. I stalk over to Lonan, who is a bit skittish. He balks a bit before settling down. My face is blank when Snape puts his hands together to give me a leg up. One of these days, I want to grow taller than him and look down at him as he's looking me down right now.

I'm on Lonan and I don't have to kick his sides, all I do is hiss, "_You know where to go." _

And my black gelding starts looping along.

* * *

I head to the Southlands. I could hunt for a suitable person in the Wastelands, but what's the use? All those that toil there are but a shadow of themselves. It's all the stench of death. It clings to them, suffocates them. 

Hedwig digs her claws into my now leather clad arm, hooting with irritation at Lonan, who has started slowing down to a bone-jarring trot. My knees press into Lonan's side to lessen the jostling. But my attention was direct toward my surroundings. My gelding doesn't change gaits without reason.

I feel the magic pulsing toward me before I see who it's from. I twist around in my saddle and grab my sword from where it's sheathed behind my back. I push my power into it and it reflects the silver light.

I turn and see a fair head atop a grey stallion. Lonan's nostril flare and he is suddenly very still, all his attention directed toward the other horse. Hedwig's not happy either, puffing her feathers up. They feel threatened, but Lonan relaxes when I stroke his neck. I recognize whose son he is. With that hair and pale features… he must be Lucius Malfoy's son. A pity he doesn't know who I am. Attacking me is a promise of death.

My hood and formless robes are obscuring, but most know Death's Servant ridesLonan and carry Hedwig. There is no mystery, even if I keep my features shrouded. Who needs to see my face to know what I am after?

"You are trespassing," Malfoy's son sneers. "You must leave or else."

Hedwig hisses as much as an owl can. My fingers gently pet her breast feathers and she hoots affectionately. She's a protective thing, always coming to my defense. It's a reason I never carry her when Master's around. She would do… something we would both regret.

"Do you think you could stop me?" I ask coldly.

My words must have clawed at his pride because he heels his horse hard on the side and comes charging at me with his sword raised in a manner that's balanced and skilled. When he nears me, he launches himself off his sword, swinging his sword in a deadly arc—power throbbing from the blade.

I signal to Lonan and he drops to his knees and the Malfoy boy flies over me and lands hard on his knees. I swing off my mount and gesture once at Hedwig. She flies a little and attaches her to a specially made perch on the saddle. Her eyes are whirling and everything about her posture is unhappy. I sheath my sword and crouch next to the boy. Hedwig hoots with warning, but I ignore it.

The blond boy is lying there with his sword out of reach, probably a little drained his power usage, and I touch him to see if he's okay. Maybe he hit his head at an odd angle, but still that's better than me deflecting him at such a close angle. The backlash from that would have done far more damage.

My fingers only brush his cheek before I know, he's feinted. It's too late to draw back when he pushes a dagger into my gut. My hand grabs his wrist, pulling it and the dagger away from my flesh. I hold on tightly, using my magic to break his bones. He cries out in pain and his gray eyes cloud with pain. My blood is seeping out and I jerk him toward me.

"I should kill you," I whisper harshly. "I should slit your throat and watch you drown in your own blood."

I can feel his fear like I can feel my blood soak my robes. "No," he rasps. "_Please…"_

My hand curls around his throat. Lonan has moved closer, I can feel his presence near me. He is pissed; he can smell my blood. He'd probably trample the blond to death if I wasn't near. And Hedwig, I hear her screeching. She's a banshee when I'm hurt.

I dig my nails into his throat, hard enough to draw blood and his eyes start to roll back into his head. "Ask your father," I say softly. "Ask your father and you'll know why you should be dead."

I let go and he gasps for arm, cradling his wrist. I stand up and grab Lonan's mane. I slide onto his warm back and I force my back to be straight, even though it's excruciating. When I'm far enough away that I'm like a bird in the sky, I slump forward and press my hand against the wound. It's not bad; nothing like the pain Master can put me through. He broke me, after all.

But it's bad enough that I need to rest and heal. There's only one place I know and it's a half day's ride from here. I grit my teeth and push Lonan on. My gelding's only too willing, speeding up into a punishing gallop. It'll cut the time in half.

I look at Hedwig and she nods. She nips my ear and flies off.

* * *

"Take the hood off," she says. "And the robe." 

I do what she asks. My tunic is soaked in blood and my head is spinning. She clucks her tongue in disapproval; Hedwig on her shoulder, hooting along with her. Those two are a matched pair.

She pushes my hands away as I try to undo the laces that hold the tunic together. She shoves me toward a chair and I'm naked from the waist up before I even know what's going on. The room's whirling an ugly purple rimmed with green.

"Oh Harry," she says, looking up with her fuzzy brown eyes, "you should have asked me to come to you."

I want to retort how could she… she doesn't have a horse like Lonan. But I'm too out of it to say anything. The day has gone down to a lower level of damnation. And I am ready to succumb to it.

I fall.

**TBC**

A/N: I don't know what to say other than thank you so much. This fic is a complete AU fantasy, though canon characters appear and hopefully IC. There's still magic but it's twisted into another form. I was surprised to get as many reviews as I did and hopefully this chapter more than meets your expectations!

I'm taking a vote on "Enthrall" over on LJ right now at... www(dot)livejournal(dot)com(slash)(tilde)yih  
The link is also available off my personal archive.

Thanks to scorpion moon goddess, chocolatedemon, **Mosrael **('nick from Abhorsen?), **Kuroi Kitty** (well it's not like a canon fic), Jade29, Iskjif, **Cassa-Andra** (Who knew? Sort of regret deleting my ML now), Jessie237, gothgurl666, Valore, Kira6, Spear and Magic Helmet, MarvoloSledgeHammer, **Nostalgia587** (stories do die w/o acknowledgement ), **HarlyX5-657** (Remus and Sirius should make an appearance), MirrorWakes, **Eaiva le Fay** (What angst? Just darkness and violence so far), Shattered Diamond, **CannonFodder** (Chimera IMO will get better once I get past the "pre-story" stage I'm in right now, which is the background), Julie Long, Kamorie, **Daishiko** (yes, no), Sarah R Potter, kitsune-dragon-inu, Thee-Unknown-Factor, **japaense-jew** (No, Yes, No, Fantasy time period), **GreyGranian** (yes), **Spideria** (yes), Danaan, and **Agnus Dei** (blushes).


	3. CH 2: The Sins of Death

**ANATHEMA  
**By Yih

Note: This is an AU fantasy.

Chapter Two  
_The Sins of Death_

"So you're awake finally," she says, touching the area around my wound with her finger.

I open an eye and the bright light almost blinds me. I groan and try to bat her hand away from my side. "Stop it," I mutter. "It'll heal whether you put something on it or not."

"Of course," she snaps, "your incredible _healing_ ability. God forbid if you died by underestimating your gift."

"Herm," I whisper, "I'll be fine."

She raises her eyebrow, her hands on her hips. "I suppose that's why you fainted?"

"Perhaps I pushed myself a little hard."

She sighs and presses a wet cloth next to the wound, cleaning it before she slathers some of her homemade ointment on it. "Next thing I know, you'll be thinking you have no need to come to me when you're injured. And then…" she murmurs, "I'll never see you again."

I reach up with a hand and touch her cheek gently. "Of course I'd come to see my savior."

"I still think you should have sent Hedwig to me and I could have found a way to come to you." She sniffs and rubs the ointment a bit harder on my wound than she should. "This is bad, Harry. Anyone else would have died." I wince and she immediately lightens up. "Sorry."

"S'okay."

She places a cloth one my wound and covers my naked torso with a blanket. "I take it you're here… because of him."

I manage to open my other eye. "Yes."

"He needs another body."

I nod.

"Please," she says, "don't ask me."

"I do have to ask you something," I reply, "but not that."

"What then?" she asks with trepidation.

"Do you know if Lucius Malfoy has a son?"

"He does," she answers, capping her ointment jar and replacing it on the shelf. "Why do you ask?"

I smile faintly. "No reason."

* * *

A day later, she stands with the wind blowing her light brown hair away from her face. Her face looks worn and it's a good thing I'm going. There is something about my presence that always wearies her out. I do not think it is because I was injured. The presence of death clings to me and makes me… a leech like my Master.

I raise my hand in farewell and she does the same. I signal for Lonan to kneel, and he does. I climb on aboard him and Hedwig nips my finger gently as she settles herself down on my arm. My free arm grips Lonan's mane. I tap his side once and we're off.

* * *

Along the way, when I was retracing my track, I considered just plucking a boy from a nearby village. But why not call in a favor from Lucius Malfoy? I am due one, and it has been a while since I've taken one of laymen from his estates. He owes fealty to Master, and it's time he paid.

I smile grimly as we reach the borders of his land. I see three men waiting on horseback. They bow immediately when they catch sight of me. Unlike his son, these men know who I am. I vaguely recognize one of them. He's a cousin of some sort to Malfoy's wife. I can feel his power, and he would _most definitely_ suit. Too bad… it's unlikely Malfoy would accede to that.

"My lord," they all say. "We offer you safe passage through the Malfoy lands."

I pull my hood closer to my face and incline my head only barely. Why speak when a simple gesture will say as much?

"Follow us then," the cousin says.

They heel their horses, digging their feet into the sides. I feel Lonan toss his head with disgust and I merely tap his shoulder and he is off at a pace that easily overtakes the other horses. I have a strange urge to laugh at them, but I don't.

I fear becoming like _him_.

* * *

We arrive at the Malfoy castle after an hour's ride. I dismount and hold my hand up when a groomsman comes to tend to Lonan. I undo the straps to my gelding's saddle for myself and slide the girth across the top; then I pull the saddle off and hand it to the groom. He takes it with surprise. I turn my attention back to Lonan and stroke his neck, whispering for him to stay close.

He flicks his ears back and forth in acquiescence before tearing off in a gallop that sends most of the people near him running. I smile a little at his antics and Hedwig hoots with annoyance. I pet her head reassuringly and she puffs herself up.

I raise my arm up and she only digs her nails further into my clothed wrist. I lower my arm and hold it near my shoulder. She shifts over, a bit grumpily, but she knows I need both my hands if trouble comes.

"My lord," the cousins says, gesturing to the entrance, "my Master awaits your presence."

"Then take me to him."

"If you will but follow me."

I do and we walk into a brightly lit hall that is nothing like Death's fortress. We take a few twists and turns, walk up a stairway. If I had not been here before, I would have thought Malfoy was deliberately making this hard for me. I am not one to vex and I am good deal more patient than my Master is.

"Master Lucius is in there."

"Thank you…?"

"My name is Sirius Black," he replies. "If you require anything, just ask me. I am the Head of Guards."

I nod and step into the room. The door closes and I see the familiar form of Lucius standing with his hands clasped behind his back. I don't bother to make a sound, knowing he'll acknowledge me when he chooses to.

"I take it," he says, turning around, "you are here because of the incident that occurred two days ago?"

I incline my head.

"I do apologize for my son's indiscretion." Lucius, as always, sounds perfectly in control but there is an urgency I sense in his demeanor. "Anything you want, you may have as a boon."

"Anything?"

"Except my son," he states fiercely, his eyes narrowing. "You can have anything but him."

"And if I want him?" I toy with the idea, not really serious. But it is interesting to see Lucius desperate as he is. I never thought his weak spot would be a child of his seed. Though I suppose I really shouldn't be so surprise. These noble men are like that, placing too much stock in the value of life. "After all," I murmur, "I was lenient not to kill him."

"I know what you do to the men I give you," Lucius says harshly, "and I would rather kill my son with my own hands than to have the life sucked out of him."

"What of your Head of Guards?"

A frown briefly flickers over his face, but he nods stiffly. "If you want Black, you may have him."

Do I want to bring a man such as Black back to Master? I lower my eyes and consider the idea. The man is strong, infused with power, enough to bring such life to him that he has not known in years. I almost shudder, but stop short. It would not do to appear to be weak in front of Lucius.

"The man is too… headstrong, my Master dislikes those sorts," I murmur. "I will dine with you tonight and decide amongst the ones at the table who I will bring back."

Lucius bows ever so slightly. "As you wish."

I sweep out the room, wondering why I hadn't taken victory when I could.

* * *

Hedwig flies to the perch a servant has thoughtfully set up in my chambers. I glance around at the lavish furnishing and piles of blankets on the bed. Lucius has certainly gone all out to welcome me this time. I don't remember being this well-received, but it's not like his heir had tried to kill Death's Servant either.

I grimace as I take off my surcoat and unlace my tunic, pulling it over my head. I touch the tender wound, wondering against at what divine power that gave me the power to heal quickly. It was dead useful when I was injured and even more so when Master decided to drain me.

Someone knocks on the door and I say, "Yes?"

"My lord thought you might like a bath?" a man's low voice says.

"Come in." I don't bother to pull on my shirt, unbothered when the servant comes in and blushes when he sees wound on my stomach and the faint scars from my last session with my Master. I sit on the bed and watch him pour the water into the tub.

The water he pours reaches about halfway up the tube. He glances at me nervously before averting his eyes again. "Shall I get two more buckets?"

I shake my head and gesture for him to leave.

He does and I slip into the warm water, sighing and then slipping my head under.

* * *

I emerge from my room for dinner a few hours later. I am the last to arrive and my hood is carefully placed over my face to hide my features. I shouldn't have let the servant see me, but he was far too busy staring anywhere else but at me to look at me too carefully. I doubt he could put a picture of me on parchment—if he even knew how to draw, much less write.

"My lord," Lucius says, bowing his head and the rest of those at the table bow much lower in deference.

I smile vaguely. What was it that Master had always told me? That nothing is greater than the feeling of absolute power. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps not.

"If you would please?" Lucius points to the seat of honor next to his right.

I notice to the left it is not his wife sitting next to him, but his son. I don't remember ever seeing his heir sitting there before. Lucius must have been hiding him when I cam. Probably afraid I'd take the boy. I almost laugh at the thought, as if Master would want a callow untried boy like that. No, there are much better prospects than the Malfoy boy.

I walk calmly over to the seat and the servant who had draw my bath for me earlier, pulls the chair and I sit down. Lucius sits and the others all take a seat after him in order of their positions in his household. Lucius raises his hands and claps, dinner begins.

"I trust you found your rooms adequate?"

I incline my head.

Across the table I see the boy heir sneer, twisting his thin lips into something very much like his father. The more I look at him, the more I see Lucius in him. But there's a glimmer of something a bit more fragile about him, delicate. That must come from his mother. I wonder, I slide my eyes toward Lucius, if he is disappointed in his son.

Oh to be sure, he does care—love the boy, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't like a better heir. I would say the young man's a disappointment, too rash and untutored. Much work must be done, and I doubt he would get a hard hand from his father.

He lowers his voice and says, "You may choose any in this room except my son as I have agreed earlier."

I doubt anyone hears but me. I shift my eyes around the room, briefly resting on Black. Something wants me to take him, but I shake off that feeling. Attachments are useless, especially when he'll die a slow, agonizing death.

Who I choose doesn't matter. I tilt my head toward a lanky man that is neither attractive nor horrible to look upon. "That one."

"Very good, my lord," Lucius say smoothly. "His name is Quirrell."

**TBC**

A/N: 112 hits, 27 reviews. Not a bad ratio. Thanks if only 25 of people reviewed like this, I'd be happy. Keep it up. As for pairing, I'm not really sure what I'll do, but what pairing would you like to see? I've introduced pretty much all the principle players, though there are still the Gryffindors to show up. They will in the next few chapters. For your information Harry's about 16.

Thanks to j752572, Artemis MoonClaw, xxFallin, **Spike wings** (blushes thanks.), Ruth01, Irihi Safaia, Kuroi Kitty, **Cassa-Andra** (Yes, I'm using canon in a twisted way to shove it into a new world. It's rather fun and less restrictive than Muggle AUs), Shattered Diamond, **chocolatedemon** (If there is… you won't hear much about it as the story is from Harry's POV), HoshiHikari, Fate, **Thee-Unknown-Factor** (I doubt Snape knows much of anything.), CuriousDreamWeaver, **Iskjif** (As for IC, I think Harry's IC for what he's been through and the others pretty much follow what I interpret from canon), **MirrorWakes** (congrats, I think you're the only one to guess.), **Lothirielwen** (regular beatings; who knows what will happen?), Don't-Be-a-Sheep, **sunsethoriz** (I think I'll keep with slightly shorter as I tend to actually update), Tinanit Enozym, angelkitty77, IamRavine, **Mosrael** (well it's not quite as bad as long as it misses all the internal organs), Julie Long, Danaan, and riantlykalopsic.


	4. CH 3: The Edge of Insanity

**ANATHEMA**  
By Yih

Note: This is an AU fantasy. That means canon events will not happen as you see them. They will be twisted to fit this world, which is not like quite like the wizarding world, though there are still wizards. And it's not a "go back" in time thing either.

Chapter Three  
_The Edge of Insanity_

The ritual of imposition—one soul suppressing another—is unpleasant. I hate watching; I hate participating. I am forced to pick victims who can suffer and survive it. Quirrell's a decent choice. I know better than to choose poor ones.

"_Weak host,_" Master hisses. "_Inferior choice." _

I bend my head even more, knowing better than to protest. He has never told me I made a good selection. It doesn't work like that. I must always be disparaged. It makes him feel superior, and anything that makes him feel powerful—trapped as he is between life and death—is a necessity.

"_My terror..." _I feel his presence, the extensions of his soul that do not bound tightly to his old host—they are slipping out as the body dies and dies. "_Prepare him." _

I nod and call for Snape to bring me Quirrell, naked and bound.

* * *

I shudder when I see him… in Quirrell's lanky body. He looks almost normal, if I don't immediately notice the red, red eyes. They are the trait that always carries over at the instant of the exchange. The rest, the scaly dry husk, will follow.

Time always has its vengeance on him. It's not natural, what he is. What he's trying to escape from. But he's managed all these years, who knows how long? So long, so long that it's become engraved into the minds of those around us. How this land is known as the wasteland, Death's Kingdom.

"_Harry," _he says and curls a fingers, "_come here." _

I walk over and bow. I can feel his pleasure in his gaze. There's something about the way he looks at me that is morphing into what I don't know. I have never seen it before and I dread it.

Quirrell's bony fingers touch my face, trail down my cheek to my throat to cradle it. "_My sweet destruction," _he whispers. "_I have a mission for you." _

"What is it, Master?" I do not dare to raise my face. I keep it low, I keep it down.

"_This body is strong enough for the purpose I need. I will have my deliverance," _he declares, his hand tightening around my neck. "_You have read of Flamel, you know what it is I seek." _

"_The Philosopher's Stone._"

"_Yes,"_ he hisses in approval. "_My smart, smart boy." _

"_But it is only… a myth, a legend."_

"_No." _He's choking me. I can't breath. "_Listen carefully." _

My eyes roll back into my head. I don't have much choice. Red spots. Oh.

"_There is a rumor spreading that it has been found within the Domain of Hogwarts." _His nails are breaking skin, drawing blood. "_We will go there, my terror, and we will hunt it down."_

* * *

"My lord," Snape says, bowing stiffly and handing me a message. "This was sent by a special courier for you."

My stomach clenches uncomfortably when I take it. I glance at him and incline my head. He bows once more before taking his leave. I watch him leave, waiting until he has closed the door safely behind him before opening the note.

_Harry,_

_I know you said never to contact you, but I had to choice. You told me to tell you of any 'unusual doings' in the Southlands and I believe I have something you might be interested in. If you will receive such a missive, send your eyes and I will answer. _

Thank all that she did not sign her name, but Hermione isn't foolish. She knows the danger I represent. Somehow she still finds in her heart to be kind to me. It goes against everything she stands for, as a healer. I don't quite understand, but I'm grateful. She's the one _human_ friend I have.

I quickly burn the note, letting it crumble away into ashes in my hot hand. I clench my fists and toss the remains into the fireplace. Master would not be able to reform the message, not when it had been destroyed by magical flame.

Quickly, I need to act before Master realizes anything is up. I know the rules. I belong to Master and only him. If Master knew about Hermione, likely he would kill her and I don't want that. I'd rather die.

Whatever the information Hermione has, it must be very unusual. Some of the less interesting bits she kept to herself until he visited. But this—this must be extraordinary for her to contact me.

She knows the consequence. It could be my life.

I shrug. I conjure a missive and start writing:

_It is me. This note is designed to disappear into nothing once you've read it. So pay close attention. Send the information as soon as you can, in a manner that is not as obvious as your last. I trust you understand what I mean for you to do. _

_And thank you._

I calls Hedwig and ties it around her leg. She hoots eagerly and nips my ear, her way of telling me to be careful while she's gone. I smile and nod. She smiles in the way only owls can and flies off.

I silently pray for her safety.

* * *

"The Great Lord requests your presence," Snape tells me a day later.

I have been expecting him; a bit surprised it hadn't happened sooner. But my Master must be busy working out the arrangements for his first excursion out of the Wastelands since… he fetched me those many years ago. Since then, Master hasn't stepped out from the borders, not until now.

I breathe in deeply to calm my nerves before taking a cloak and slinging it around my shoulders. I don't know why. It's ridiculous actually. It's not like it's ever cold in his rooms. He keeps it quite warm—almost unbearably so.

"Is there anything you would like me to do while you are occupied?" Snape inquires. His eyes are as blank as his face.

"No."

"Very well then," Snape says stiffly. "You know where to find me."

I incline my head and leave him to his business. I have my own to tend to.

* * *

"_My terror," _my Master says sibilantly. There's a slight gentleness to his voice that will be gone by the time he has worn the body into a skeletal remain. "_The preparations will be done tomorrow." _

Is that all this meeting is about? I feel my shoulders relax slightly, not enough to make a difference in my stance. If he doesn't know, then I'm not going to give him a reason to ask questions—to probe my mind.

"_When shall we leave?"_ I inquire.

"_At dusk." _

I nod. _"Is that all?" _I keep the eagerness out of my voice, knowing he would hear it. I make it bland, but not too bland. He recognizes differences in tones and he always seems to know when I'm trying too hard to hide something. I have to keep it mild, keep it exactly how I would react if I really was what I was hiding beneath.

"_No._"

My neck suddenly feels a blazing pain that shoots down my spine. I gasp and fall to my knees. I lurch forward and I feel his gaze piercing into my careful shields. I don't force new ones up. He'll notice. I allow some information to filter through, tidbits of knowledge I had kept to myself. I let him see Black, let him see Malfoy's heir. But not Hermione, never her.

I reluctantly give up the memory of the knife wound, how it had tore into my gut and almost incapacitated me. But my magic had been strong; it had healed me. I owe my life to my Master. He had made me this way.

I feel his pleasure.

Sometimes he is so predictable. I know what he wants and I don't understand why. He likes to cause me anguish, torment and yet… he wants me to need him. And there's something more, something that eludes me.

Pain sears my mind and the darkness edges—pulses and there are no more thoughts in oblivion.

* * *

I wake up and everything is black. I gasp when I feel familiar cold fingers grip my face and turn it in the direction of his burning red eyes. "_Master,_" I rasp.

"_I am most displeased with you, Harry Potter."_

He never said my full name unless he is. I shiver, tremble and hope that my show of fear is enough to thrill him without any excruciating pain. Master's grip only tightens and I feel his nails dig into my skin—once Quirrell's nails. I tense when I feel them break skin.

"_You had a message that you did not inform me of." _

I nod slowly, not having much choice in the matter.

"_And you had another," _he hisses, leaning so close to my ear that his tongue grazes it. _"Fortunately, it contains information most useful." _He releases me and I relax a little. _"Whoever this messenger is, you have done well… my terror." _

I have no idea what he is talking about. My mind is racing… the message must have been from Hermione. But what could it possibly contain that would interest Master? She probably wrote of some… off hand news of politics—maybe there's a new Head Wizard? The current one annoys my Master greatly. Sometimes I suspect it is that old man who nearly sent Master into the dead.

"_You made such a dreadful mistake," _Master says with an edge I recognize as one that promises great pain and torment. "_You should have told me. I so do dislike being uninformed." _

I don't even have time to prepare myself for the agony that races through my body. I think I'm screaming, but all I really know is that this pain makes me want to let go. This torture could break me.

"_It won't." _

Master's voice. Another twisted promise. It's always the same. I race to the edge of insanity and he releases me before I overrun it. I don't see why he just doesn't push me over. He has more willing servants than I, ones who are only too eager to serve him. What good am I? I am only… the son of two unimportant, murdered wizards.

I am nothing. _Nothing. _nothing… in this fracturing.

"_No." _

I rush to crumbling wall, waiting for it fall and then be free—oh free in madness. But before my eyes it starts to reform, cracks disappearing, and my legs suddenly being dragged in the reverse. I am heading backwards and… back to him.

"_I will never release you." _

**TBC**

A/N: Ah yes, a bit chilling eh? I find this quite different from any other thing I've written in the HP fandom, stylistically too. It's just a very creepy fic to write. I think Voldemort's characterized well and yet not characterized like my other Voldemorts. Anyway, leave a review. It helps get this story written.

Thanks to crystal17, **Illucia** (you should get an idea where it's going now), clazertai, Iskjif, **Silent Sinner** (thanks! I've had a slip of updates for about 6 months, just during school I really slow down, I was overswamped. Though sighs MCATs are coming up… so soon I'm going to be really busy… we'll see what happens then), fudgebaby, Ruth, **kirrdis** (Quirrell fits with book one), Mirrorwakes, Wellingtonboots, **Rey Melody** (Actually this is influenced by Garth Nix a bit, with the whole "dead in the living" but no use of bells and charter marks and even more influenced by Chinese Fantasy), Aremis Moonclaw, HoshiHikari, Eaiva le Fay, **Spike wings** (Yes Lucius loves Draco, I think a bit too much, which makes him a hard father b/c he expects so much.), Rattentod, sunsethoriz, Thee-Unknown-Factor, Allie, Serpent of Light, **Shattered Diamond** (Harry's a bit old because of the torture bit), Lady Lestrange, CuriousDreamWeaver, Toki Mirage, riantlykalopsic, futago akuma-tenshi01, angelkitty77,** Japanese-jew **(I'll explain Sirius when we get back to him. Regulus is the heir, not Sirius, which I assure you I will go into some detail on if it's important. Narcissa isn't lower in status. There are people w/o power/magic, but they don't consider this muggles and this is not in the 20th century. It's not even in this world, for the matter), Julie Long, chocolatedemon, garnettvii, j752752 (I don't think Harry's the type of person to make observations. He slides through life), **Spideria** (Thanks), **wizzan** (b/c Quirrell was the host for Voldemort in Book 1)

If anyone wants to ask questions or just talk, I'll be "sevviepooh" on aim.


	5. CH 4: The Punishment

**ANATHEMA  
**By Yih

Note: This is an AU fantasy. That means canon events will not happen as you see them. They will be twisted to fit this world, which is not like quite like the wizarding world, though there are still wizards. And it's not a "go back" in time thing either. **Also **this chapter contains violence, death, and blood.

Chapter Four  
_The Punishment_

My body burns with pain. There are aches everywhere from my head down to my toes. I move my arm and grimace. I hesitantly touch my stomach, not surprised to find myself bare. I don't feel any of the slickness of spilt blood. Master has healed. I ought to be grateful, but I'm worried.

Is Hermione all right?

I groan and sit up. Immediately someone pushes me down. The hands are cold, the fingers bony. Snape. I blink furiously, trying to focus on his sallow face. I see the large nose and I'm certain it's him.

"Snape," I rasp.

"My lord," he says blandly, "the Great Lord has given me orders to make sure you remain in bed."

"If I don't…"

"Then you won't much like it," Snape promises.

I sigh and allow him to settle the duvet over me. "Thirsty."

"I will get you some water, but remain in the bed. The Great Lord has set certain spells over you to make certain you stay."

I grimace. "I need to talk to him."

"The Great Lord is gone."

My eyes want to widen, but I force them to remain still much as my face stays blank. "Do you know when he will be back?"

"By tonight."

I swallow hard. I know where he's gone. He might not know where Hermione is and a tracking spell wouldn't quite work when he didn't know the person—but Hedwig would tell him, if he threatened to harm me.

Oh Hedwig… Hermione.

I don't notice until it's too late when Snape's finger pinch over my nose and a potion is shoved down my throat and I drift into oblivion.

* * *

"_My little torment," Voldemort hissed. _

_I recoiled when the skeletal man touched my cheeks. My parents were dead because of him. He had killed him. I wanted to claw at him, but I remembered what he would do to me if I disobeyed him. He promised—he vowed to make me hurt until I screamed for an ending. _

_I knew it was true. He had carved my stomach open before closing it with magic. The pain had been too much and I had almost blacked out. I still had the scar, slashed over my belly button. He told me it was a reminder, an effective one. _

"_Kill this," Voldemort urged, gesturing to the rabbit in front of me. "Now." _

_I reached and grabbed the rabbit. My hands curled around its neck and I hesitated. _

"_Kill it!" _

_I snapped its neck. _

"_My little executioner," Voldemort murmured, licking my ear and caressing my cheek, "well done." _

_

* * *

_

I wake up shuddering, painfully aware of my sickening desire. I cruelly rid my self of it and trace my finger up my stomach. The scar is still there, a thin line from my groin to my belly button. It is more than a significant reminder. It is a numerous one. Seven times. Seven times Master has cut me open.

I expected the letter to make the eighth, but it has yet to happen. Whatever the information is, it's something that pleases him. I squeeze my eyes close. I know the potion. I'm not supposed to be awake yet.

I must sleep.

* * *

"Wake up, my lord." 

I crack an eye open and notice Snape has a cup of something in his hands, it looks like hot tea. I push myself into a sitting position and he places it into my hands. "What is it?" I ask hoarsely.

"Tea."

"Poisoned?"

"No."

I still stare suspiciously at it. "Spoiled ingredients?"

"Tea leaves do not spoil."

"Then what?"

Snape presses his lips together then relaxes. "There is nothing amiss, _my lord_."

I drink it down and find it is oddly soothing, even replenishing. "You've laced this with something."

"A calming potion and an energy restorer."

I narrow my eyes. "Master's request?"

"Yes."

"I am to see him soon, are I not?"

"As soon as you finish."

I gulp the last of it. "I'm ready."

Snape nods and takes the cup from me. I roll out of the bed and he catches me before I fall to my knees. Even with the restorer, the previous potion still has my body feeling lethargic if not my mind.

I sigh and lean against the wall, my legs trembling as he strips me down and dresses me.

* * *

"Snape," my Master says coldly, "why is he like this?" 

"The potion seemed to react badly with him, Great Lord," Snape responds stiffly.

"And you did not foresee this aftereffect?"

Snape lowers his head and shakes it. "No, my deepest apologies."

Master raises his hand and curls it into a loose fist. I remember how it feels to be choked in a handless hold. Snape scratches, claws at his neck, but there's nothing there to rid himself of the suffocation. All he does with his nails is to rip out his own skin.

"_My terror,_" Master hisses, _"can you travel?" _

If I say 'no,' I daresay Snape will die. I gaze steadily at him even though I need the wall for support. "_Yesss._"

"_Very well." _He releases Snape from the magical choke "Get out of my sight."

Snape quickly gets to his feet and walks out rapidly, almost at a run. It's as undignified as I've ever seen him. I suppress a smile and my eyes drift back to my Master. I can see a familiar glint in his red eyes. He's reading me.

"Pettigrew," he snaps, "get the horses ready."

I didn't even notice the rat is slinking in the shadowed corners. It's not something I would miss if I were in good health. I definitely reacted badly to the potion, but I don't know why.

"_Harry," _Master hisses when Pettigrew leaves, _"I know where the Philosopher's Stone is." _

I feel sick. Rebirth and immortality. All his.

"_Your little lark told me,_" he whispers into my ear, his lips pressing against my skin. _"If she hadn't such good news, I would have ripped her heart out and eaten it. Hmm? Would you have liked to taste her tender flesh?" _

"_No…"_

He leans down and bites my throat, tearing into my flesh. The blood drips down, soaking into my clothes._ "I should punish you, but you'll be of no use to me on the trip if I do. As it is… you are incapacitated." _

I know not to say another word.

"_If you don't listen to me, I will make her death a certainty." _

I lower my eyes and sink to my knees. My acquiescence.

* * *

"_Where are we going?"_ I ask, numb in the saddle. 

"_To Southlands," _Master responds.

"_Where the stone is…" _

"_Yesss." _

"_Who has it?" _I inquire.

Master turns to me and smiles. Quirrell's face. It's unnatural, unlike the soft-spoken man. The face has yet to decay, but the eyes are already sinking in and the lines are beginning to form. Quirrell's body isn't young enough to handle the immense power. It won't be long before it begins to break. But there are weeks, maybe even months. Quirrell was a decent wizard.

"_Dumbledore."_

I flinch at the name. _"Are you certain?"_

"_That's what your little lark seems to think," _Master remarks in a fairly pleasant voice. I tense when I hear it. Whenever he sounds like that, it never leads to anything good. _"I do hope she's not wrong. I would hate to drain her life source. It's too bad she's not a man. Untutored as she is, she had mastered her magic in her healing arts." _

I freeze. How does he know?

I feel his hand caress my cheek. _"My sweet torment, I know everything." _

Swallowing hard, I press my face against Lonan's neck.

"_You hope she won't die," _he hisses. _"You hope I will leave her alone." _

"_You said you would," _I respond with foolish bravery. _"If I obeyed." _

"_And if she isn't wrong." _

My stomach turns. Hermione is almost never wrong, but there are times when she is. There are times when she overestimates her ability and if she has here, it could cost her everything. Just thinking about the way she could die makes my stomach heave. But there's nothing to expunge.

"_You worry for her," _he says sibilantly. _"You care for her."_

I know what he wants answered. I can feel the question clawing at my mind. _"A friend," _I answer hoarsely. _"Nothing more." _

He's close to me, like his lips are brushing against my cheek. Of course, I can see him on his black mare several strides in front. He's using a magic touch. It whispers like the wind and I shudder.

"_You cannot lie to me." _

But I'm not lying! I shove my mind forward and push my thoughts at him. He recoils for a moment, but then takes and takes. He seizes every memory I shove at him and digs further. He claws at my mind, at my soul and I let him. He must see what she is. She's nothing more than a friend.

"_You love her,"_ he murmurs with a deadly calm. _"How dangerous."_

I tremble and try to gather my thoughts together, but they are open and I cannot stop him from the continuous invasion. I let him in and I shouldn't have. He captures everything and there's nothing he doesn't know.

"_You hate me,_" he whispers. _"You fear me."_

I cling to Lonan's mane.

"_And you love me._"

**TBC**

A/N: This was a tad brutal, but then Voldemort isn't a nice person. Reviews would be super nice and more reviews tend to nudge a story along faster since it makes my muse happy. Anyway I can't wait for HBP. Anyway in the Houston area?

Thanks to **Iskjif** (rushing is bad, I agree), amy, scr, Julie Long, **Thee-Unknown-Factor** (you'll find out), CuriousDreamWeaver, **MirrorWakes** (good job), **ina** (Harry's age hasn't changed since the chapter 1, he was about 6/7 in the prologue), Shattered Diamond, chocolatedemon, HoshiHikari, **Eaiva le Fay** (Most people seem to be advocating HP/LV, as to the pairing, I'm not sure. HP/LV is the pairing I do most other than Snarry), Toki Mirage, Lothirielwen, **Spideria** (Oh yes, I love terrifying stuff. This chapter's pretty gory.)

If you want to chat (about the fic) or squeal (about HBP), my aim's _sevviepooh_.


	6. CH 5: The Light

**ANATHEMA**  
By Yih

Note: This is an AU fantasy. That means canon events will not happen as you see them. They will be twisted to fit this world, which is not like quite like the wizarding world, though there are still wizards. And it's not a "go back" in time thing either. **Also**this chapter contains violence, death, and blood.

Chapter Five  
_The Light_

We reach the borders of Dumbledore's domain by the third night. Some supernatural power—for my Master, no doubt—had carried us like the wind does the seed. Lonan carries his head high and he snorts into the mist that surrounds Hogwarts. It is a magical kind, steeped in a force to keep foe away. Definitely not an easy thing to cross, and my Master would not dare if there wasn't a great prize on the other end.

"_If the stone isn't there…"_

I press my lips together. "_She doesn't lie, but she can be wrong."_

"_I've seen your thoughts, my little torment. In your mind, she has never been wrong," _he hisses. _"Pray to the destruction of your soul that she is not." _

I do, I pray for her life and mine should the information prove false.

"_Now step forward, my servant," _my Master commands. _"Part the mist." _

I obey.

-

There is a creepy, crawling feeling from the dampness that clings to my skin. Lonan, steady and sharp of mind, is shuddering beneath me. We are not welcomed here. The mists are telling us to leave, to go from here. They do not want us to enter, but I push forward instead, pushing my magic outward to dispense the mist and make the way easier for my Master.

His mare moves with an almost silent gait, but I hear a rustle every few minutes and I know they are following close enough but not too close. I push forward, shoving my magic outward. The potion, that dreadful potion, has worn out. I've been feeling stronger the past day, but this surging energy I'm using is weakening me. My head throbs behind my temples.

I wish to close my eyes and never to wake, but I must do this thing even if I would rather not.

-

The air crackles when we leave the mist. The warning I had felt dissipates, but the weariness only increases tenfold. I clutch Lonan's mane, afraid that if I let go I will tumble off my faithful mount's back. I inhale sharply and steady the frantic beating of my heart. It's like I've ridden for miles and miles, but the distance we've covered is only… a hill compared to the mountain it took to get here. And Lonan has done much of the work.

"_It is not like him to miscalculate the aftereffects," _my Master hisses. His fingers touch my neck and creep down my spine until they rest on my lower back just above the curve of my buttocks. "_I do believe you've made an enemy of your manservant." _

I want to tense, but I force myself to relax. _"Shall we continue?" _

"_Do you think you are able?"_

I grit my teeth. I would rather sleep a thousand years than to keep moving forward, but to say that would be to show weakness. _"I can."_

"_Too bad it is not what you can, but what I will,"_ he murmurs darkly, his hand swiftly moving up and curling around my neck. _"Tell me, my terror, would you scream if said I would kill you where you stand? Your weakness, after all, is a liability here." _

I lower my eyes and lean back into his grip. "_No._"

I feel his mind thrusting into mine and I slip into darkness.

-

The sun is dim and rising when I wake. Lonan nuzzles me in the face, but there is something else I feel on me. It's cold and frightfully familiar. But it's not him, not really. It's just his magic wrapped around me, but why? It's a waste, wherever I am. I don't sense any danger, so the protection is useless…

"_It's morning." _

I snap around and he's standing shadowed by his mare and the trees. "_Master…"_

"_We leave as soon as you're ready." _

Something is strange. I rise to my feet and I do not ache. I feel almost _alive_.

-

"_Are you ready?"_ my Master asks.

I nod.

His power swarms around me like a wind trapped in space it can't escape. I feel it pulse around me and carry me as it carries him. We're going somewhere, I'm not sure where. It's a place I've never been—though it's no place you can get to by horse. It's some place in another plane.

We land and I fall to my knees.

"Voldemort," a man says, "I suspected you would come."

I look up and see an old, wizened man with pale blue eyes and a long gray beard. This is the man who my Master most fears. This is the man who keeps my Master in the Wastelands. This is the man who could defeat him.

"Dumbledore," my Master responds tightly. "I suppose you are here to stop me?"

Slowly I begin to notice this place—wherever it is—is filled with a brightness that is almost excruciating and yet not. It's been so long since I've walked in the light that I've forgotten how nourishing it can be. It's been too long that I've been hidden in death and darkness.

"You know I am."

"I have always been stronger than you, though in my youth I was impulsive and unwise. I have learned from my mistakes, _Dumbledore_, and you have no chance of standing against me. You do not even have an apprentice to help you… now, not since I killed her _last time_.

"Do you remember her? Her pleading eyes when I ripped out her throat? Hmm…?"

Dumbledore tightens his fist, but that is his only reaction. "Minerva's death was not in vain."

"Ah yes, but you will sacrifice everything… will you not? In your quest for power—"

"Justice! Right! _Good…"_ Dumbledore declares fiercely, his blue eyes burning with a passion I can see as well as a deep, abiding pity. The light will be extinguished in them. It is only a matter of time. No one can defeat Master.

"You merely call it another name."

"I do not kill innocents."

My Master lifts his hand and runs it down my cheek. Cold fingers. Cold. "Neither do I."

"And his parents?" Dumbledore queries. "What of them?"

"They had blood on their hands," my Master says in a soft lilt. "Or did you forget? They were your most trusted… servants."

I jerk my head toward the old man, seeing for the first time, a recognition. "You knew my parents?"

I feel my Master's hand stop on my throat, his fingers on top of my Adam's apple. It would be easy for him to strangle me where I stood. It wouldn't have been the first time, but I didn't care even if he did.

"I did. You are Harry Potter, aren't you?"

A sharp tingle shoots through my body and it's not only pain—it's a warning.

"Yes," I rasp. It's been years since anyone has used my name besides Hermione. How strange that this man, this enemy of my Master would know my name. I want to ask him questions, but I know I can't. Another burst of power almost makes me sink to my knees. How easy it would be to let go…

"I may not be as strong as I was," Dumbledore remarks, "but I think you may underestimate me."

"_Harry…" _my Master hisses_, "do not allow him to control you!" _

My mind is blinded by pain and I wonder why I must feel this way. Hasn't he hurt me enough? All these years of servitude, of toil, of bowing and scraping before the monster who killed my parents. And yet, he took care of me when he could have killed me. Monster, monster, monster!

I'm collapsing, but I don't feel my knees hit the floor. I'm clinging to something, someone, but I don't know who. I cannot think of any outward thoughts. I'm trapped and I can see a light, too much light after so much darkness.

"I never thought he would be your weakness."

"Release him!"

"You know I cannot allow such a thing."

"You always were a monster underneath, weren't you?"

_Monster, monster, monster. _My throat burns. Am I being strangled? It's useless. It's a meaningless pain against everything that aching in my body. There's fire, heat, and a violent sense of destruction. After all this time, why? I thought… I can't _breathe._ Destroy me, annihilation. Let it end.

"What I do, I do for good."

"Is this good?"

"I would not hurt him, but… if left no other choice."

"_Release him!" _

I'm falling, falling, and falling. And so it ends?

**TBC**

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but I won't be updating until after my MCATs (factoring in starting Uni again). But this story only has one more part I think (before we hit _uh the can't post on part)_. So yeah… it's a fairly quick plot. When I outlined it in my mind, I knew it would be short, but I didn't suspect it would be _this _short. Ah well, at least I'll sort of finish it. The smut will be available on my Y!group (look at profile for link).

Oh yeah, don't you love cliffhangers? And do you get the last scene? What do you think? What's coming next?

Thanks to **gothgurl666** (I hope it only gets better), **shiver2315** (Harry doesn't really know what love is… but he certainly doesn't hate his Master despite everything), Sephrothlay, Ruth, amy, **Raebef** (It won't be Snarry), ApocSM, **Mortalus** (thanks!), **Spideria** (Ah Draco's definitely out . I won't have time to get anywhere but at LV), **Iskjif** (God, it really is annoying when people make Voldemort nice. He's not a nice man. It doesn't mean he can't feel some sort of affection or even love in a sick, sick way. I'm glad you like it), **Akuma-river** (Pretty much yes this is the only place I post), acr, HoshiHikari, wizzan, dead feather, scorpion moon goddess, Jessie237, chocolatedemon, Toki Mirage, **clazertai** (you're really sweet), Althea, **Mirrorwakes** (Heh), j752572, Thee-Unknown-Factor, **Eaiva le Fay** (Well in HP canon he's a good legilimens, so why not? And he knows Harry very, very well), Lothirielwen, Julie Long, Falling Right Side-Up.


	7. CH 6: The Price

**ANATHEMA**  
By Yih

Note: This is an AU fantasy. That means canon events will not happen as you see them. They will be twisted to fit this world, which is not like quite like the wizarding world, though there are still wizards.

Chapter Six  
_The Price_

I am caught before the end. There is no darkness where I am, there is no light. It is a grey area. In between and tired, weary of all that has passed. I find it is like me. I want to give in to this middle ground where there is no struggle. I do not have to choose. I can just be.

_My darkness,_ I hear my Master calling. _Do not let _him_ win._

Some other voice is speaking, my Master's enemy, "You have finally learned to care."

"It is strange, is it not?" my Master asks. "For you to find some human quality that you too possess in me?" My Master pauses and I feel his hand around my waist, holding my limp body up. "We are more alike than you wish to see."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore says, "but if you do care, then give him life and light, and not this darkness and death you have forced." The brightness is seeping and flooding the grey. "Let him live as he would and not as you command and control."

"You forget, Albus Dumbledore," my Master says, "that I am _not_ you."

"Then I will have no choice."

Coherent thought is stolen from and me I can no longer feel myself in between. I am being dragged somewhere that I do not know if I wish to go. I don't think I would be adverse to it, but there are some things in the other path I would not mind having more time to journey in.

"WAIT!" my Master shouts. His voice pulls me abruptly back and I wonder what he means. I must go. I must go. Go now. "Wait."

"Yes, Tom?"

"_Don't_ call me that," my Master hisses.

"Shall I?"

"Yes. Do it."

"And then you agree?"

I could not see my Master's face, but I imagine it was not pleasant when he says, "I do."

-

Instead of darkness, there is light and much of it that my eyes burn. I do not know where I am, but I am missing something, someone. My Master is gone. He is so far I cannot feel his presence. It is an odd thing to be missing. Have I not wished for many years to be free of him? Too bad I have not wished that for the last couple of years.

"So you are awake," Dumbledore says, walking into this brightly colored room. "How do you feel?"

My throat is dry, my eyes hurt, but for what I have been through, seesawing as I was, I am perfectly fine. "Well," I say. "I am well."

"That is good."

"But," I begin, needing to know, "where is my Master?"

"Voldemort is gone," Dumbledore says. "He has released you, finally."

I stare at him, occasionally blinking.

"He is not your Master anymore."

And, though, I had known this the moment I regained myself, I am still surprised.

-

I start hearing voices in my head, sometimes I think they are my Master's, but mostly they are my delusions. I have spent so much time in his presence that I find myself half of who I am without him. It is strange. Dumbledore says I am lucky to have escaped, that my price was not so costly as he first thought it would be.

Dumbledore wants something from me, what I do not know. I do not really wish to find out.

I am content to stay in my rooms or go to the gardens when I need some fresh air. It is peaceful here, if not lonely, but if I must live this way—I can do it without complaint. It could be worse.

I know my Master is out there and alive and I know he will come for me. It does not matter that he has temporarily relinquished me. He will have his stone, his life regained, and he will also have me. For I am his and he will not let me forget it.

At least now I know, in letting me go, he cares enough about me to not risk losing me forever.

**THE END.**

A/N: I really apologize but my muse died. And well this chapter may not have been what you guys were wishing for, but I think it works out nicely. Since in the end it's really about Harry and his Master. I hoped you like this wacky fantasy AU. Please review.


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